Taking Back His Kingdom
by completely useless
Summary: Jon Snow, raised in Dorne by Ashara Dayne, is ready to take back what is rightfully his.
1. Prologue

A woman looked down into the bright violet eyes of her son. emHer son/em, it was still such an odd thing to think. She had not given birth to him, leaving her with no time time to adjust to the idea of being a parent, a mother. She smoothed back his black hair and he smiled at her, the sight of it lit her heart. She felt like his mother, even if she had not begun that way.  
Ashara was young and beautiful, with her long black hair and swirling purple hued eyes. The eldest daughter of the Dornish house of Dayne, she was one of the most sought after young maidens at court. That was, she had been. Though a maiden she remained, to the rest of the world she would be a woman disgraced, as she claimed the little boy in her arms to be her bastard.  
"He is beautiful, Ash," a rough, husky voice said from the doorway. The young woman turned to find her brother, Sir Arthur Dayne, leaning against the frame of the door as if he had not a care in the world. They were close, the two siblings, and he could not believe how much he loved the sight of his little sister as a mother. She held the baby reverently and the knight was not sure if she could love him any more if she had birthed him herself.  
The young woman looked up at her brother and smiled, "He is, isn't he? It's remarkable how much he looks like me."  
"It's our Targaryen blood. What shall you name him?"  
"Lyanna named him Jaehaerys but he would never be hidden with such a Targaryen name. I was thinking Jon."  
They both smiled at the giggling boy, who seemed to respond instantly to his new name. Somehow, they knew that all would be alright.


	2. Chapter One

288 AC

"Mama!" a little voice shouted as a small boy ran through the corridors of Starfall, his uncle hot on his heels. Jon Dayne Qorgyle, legitimized bastard of Lady Ashara Dayne, was a happy child. Slim, but somehow still round, cheeks held a certain childish handsomeness that he wore bashfully. He had never been a boy to enjoy the spotlight, though it had come to him recently, but he was definitely fit for it in looks. Jon stopped at the sound of his name being called and he turned to find his adopted father, Gulian Qorgyle, smiled locingly at him. He raced into the man's open and waiting arms, shouting, "Papa!"

Gulian swung his son around and asked, "And how have you been this fine morning, my boy?"

"Good, Uncle Arthur and I are looking for Mama."

"You know, it just so happens that I'm looking for her too. May I join you?"

"Of course, Papa."

The man had come to Starfall four years ago, when Jon was but a year old, and he had never truly left. He had, against his parent's wishes, married Ashara and taken her son as his own. He loved the boy more than life itself, just the way that a father should, and so he felt it was only right that he truly was the boy's father. Even still, the heir to Sandstone was unsure if the little black-haired boy that he held in his arms would ever be able to inherit his seat.

The reigning Lady of Starfall, as her older brother Arron had yet to marry, was found in her solar conversing with the newly arrived Lady Mellario. Though Prince Doran was in no shape to travel, his wife had made the journey with their three children and his brother and his family were set to arrive any day. Ashara, heavy with child, brightened at the sight of her son. When he was handed to her by her husband, she could not help but to nuzzle into the little boy's face playfully.

"Mama!" Jon protested, eliciting smiles from everyone.

"I have to cuddle you as much as I can before I'm too big to even move," the woman gestured to her protruding stomach. Her son put his hand on her growing belly softly.

"You're boo-tiful, Mama, just like my baby sister."

"How do you know it's not gonna be another boy?"

"Because I do."

The adults all had to smile at his childish certainty. He had been telling them for months that the babe was a girl but everyone else believed it to be a boy, as that was what the maester had told them. Jon believed it so strongly that his parents had allowed him to pick out a name for a little girl. They did not truly believe him but he knew that they would simply see for themselves when little Elena was born.

Lady Mellario cooed at the little boy's cuteness. He was a gentle child, so unlike the woman's own offspring, Arianne, Trystane, and Quentyn. Dressed in simple clothes with no shoes, he could have been mistaken for a street urchin, had it not been for the noble way in which he carried himself. There were several men at court who could learn a thing or two from the young bastard turned lordling.

Ashara and Gulian took their son for a walk in the gardens, hoping to spend some time with him before the arrival of Prinve Oberyn and his brood. They each held one of his small hands, Jon telling them all about the flowers that he had learned of in his lessons. He was an avid young scholar, and Maester Ronin had often commented that he could not have asked for a better student. He was fascinated with discovering more about the world around him, occasionally to the point that he would forget anything and everything else.

"Do you think Uncle Oberyn's daughters will like me?" Jon asked shyly. The younger prince of Dorne was his godfather and had been to visit many times, but he had never met the man's horde of illegitimate daughters. They varied in ages; the youngest, Elia, was only two years old. It was said that Oberyn's longtime paramour, Ellaria Sand, was pregnant with yet another child.

Looking down at her son's insecure face, Ashara lifted him into her arms and said, "I'm sure that they will love you, my sweet."

"But what if they don't? Uncle Oberyn said they were like me, but I dunno what he meant."

Both parents cursed the prince's loose tongue. They were sure that he had meant no harm by the remark but it had been inappropriate nonetheless. His children were illegitimate, just as Jon himself had once been, but the boy did not know of his status. He had no idea that Gulian was not his biological father, and even less that Ashara was not his biological mother. It was something that his parents had agreed to tell him when he was older, when he was ready.

"He only meant that they are skilled fighters," Gulian covered when it became clear that his wife had no answer for their son. "His daughter Sarella is close to your age, perhaps you will be able to spar with her."

"Please, don't tell me I've gotta marry her too."

Laughter rang out at the child's impassioned cry. Earlier that year, they had informed him that they were considering betrothing him to Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden. He had been none to happy, to say the very least, stating that he had no wish to marry a girl that he did not know. They explained to him that he would not have to wed her for some time, until the two were much older, and that left plenty of time for them to get to know each other.

Prince Oberyn and his family arrived the next day to a formal greeting by the residents of Starfall, including Arthur and Ashara's nine year old sister, Allyria. Jon stood in between his parents, dressed in a miniature version of his father's military dress uniform. He looked handsome and regal in it, if not a little shy, as he was attempting to hide behind his mother's skirts. His godfather came adorned in his riding clothes and smiling broadly, his arm around his very pregnant paramour. The youngest of his children was held in her mother's arms with the other four following behind, ranging from ages seven to sixteen. All had the brown hair, mocha eyes, and tan skin of their father's house of Martell.

"You all look very proper, standing there in your formal garb as if I was someone important," Oberyn teased as he stepped forward. He first embraced Gulian, then Ashara, and finally stooped down in front of his godson. "What, no hug for your uncle?"

The little boy happily dove into the prince's embrace, allowing himself to be lifted into strong, tan arms. Reaching into his pocket, the man offered the boy a small doll and said, "I found this in Volantis and I thought of you."

"It's a Dothraki soldier!" Jon exclaimed. He held up the doll to gaze upon it reverently. "Thank you, Uncle Oberyn. I love it."

"Would you like to meet my daughters?"

The happy smile slipped off of the boy's face and he was only able to nod nervously. Oberyn sat him down in front of his brood, often called the Sand Snakes, and smiled as, one after another, each of the older girls stepped forward and introduced themselves to him. They were never a particularly warm bunch of girls, having been raised in the ways of combat since they were born, but each softened in the presence of the timid child. Even the eldest girl Obara, who was as surly and disagreeable as they came, stooped down and engaged in a giggling conversation with the boy. Her father was shocked, as he had not heard her giggle in all the years of her life.

Everyone dined that night in private, hoping to get the children acquainted with each other before they would all have to be seen together in public. They were allowed to sit anywhere that they like and Jon, surprisingly, chose to situate himself in between two of the Sand Snakes, sixteen year old Obara and fourteen year old Nymeria. He was rather taken with the older girls, who all too happily indulged him. They told him stories of their travels with their father, answering all of the endless questions that his inquisitive mind came up with. When it was time for him to go to bed, he even had Nymeria take him up and tuck him in, falling asleep with his head in her lap.

"Hey Nym," Jon asked his friend. Nymeria had taken the boy out riding, sitting him in front of her on the saddle.

She prompted, "Yeah?"

"Well I was wondering… how come your last name is Sand and not Martell, like Uncle Oberyn?"

The girl tilted her head, trying to decide how best to explain the situation to him. "You see, Father was not married to my mother, so I could not inherit his family name. I was given the name Sand to honor our great Dorne."

"I guess that makes sense. I gotta bunch of names, maybe you could have one of mine."

Nymeria laughed at the little boy's innocent generosity. Jon was a sweet little thing, so trusting and kind, and he loved so freely that it was impossible not to like him. She had always been the most affectionate of her sisters, so her love for him was expected, but Obara had shocked everyone by being equally as enamored with the child. He had quickly become something akin to a little brother to all of the Sand Snakes. They had a lot of sisters but no brothers.

Obara and Lady Ashara were waiting for them on their return, smiles on their faces. Letting her son go out alone with an already well accomplished assassin had been a far easier decision than the lady would have expected. She trusted Oberyn, and so she trusted her children. Seeing that they were in one piece, the mother knew that she had been right.

Ashara, Mellario, and Ellaria had a picnic with the children in the garden; nine year old Allyria, twelve year old Arianne, seven year old Quentyn, one year old Trystane, sixteen year old Obara, fourteen year old Nymeria, twelve year old Tyene, seven year old Sarella, two year old Elia, and Jon. The older girls watched with their mothers as Quentyn, Sarella, Elia, and Jon chased each other through the gardens.

"It's nice to see him playing with children his own age," Ashara commented, smiling fondly at her little son.

"Does he have no others to play with?" asked Ellaria.

"No, but he will soon."

"Is he happy about the baby?"

"I think that he may be more excited than I am, to be completely honest. This is the first day that's gone by that he hasn't mentioned the baby every few minutes."

"That's so darling," Mellario smiled. The three of them smiled as the aforementioned boy lifted baby Trystane up by his shoulders and helped him to toddle around. He was kneeled down behind the toddler, speaking softly to the smaller child and giving him gentle encouragement to walk. "He is such a sweet little thing."

"Thank you. I'd like to say that he gets that from me, but it is all his own. He's just naturally this amazing."

"Is the boy yet engaged?"

"We are in tentative talks with the Tyrells, who wish to wed their only daughter to him."

"That's odd, as he is of such low birth."

The Tyrells had, weirdly, been one of the very few families knew the truth of who Jon actually was. Ashara and Ellaria shared a knowing smile, safe in the knowledge that their companion did not have possession of such facts.

Up a tower in the main part of the castle, Gulian and Oberyn were discussing the young boy as well. Oberyan had pulled the young father aside to question him about his adopted son. The prince wanted simply to ensure that the man would cause no harm to befall his godson. After only mere moments of conversation, he knew that the man's intentions were true. Though the child was not of his blood, he loved him so, and the boy's godfather took great comfort in that.

There was a happiness to be found throughout the stone corridors of Starfall during that visit. Little Jon, who was usually so solemn, had come alive in the presence of the other children. The lot of them ran and played for weeks on end, creating friendships that would last a lifetime, even amongst the oldest of them. When the day came for the visitors to depart, sadness fell on them like a hammer to a blacksmith's anvil. Ashara had to physically pry her son away from Obara Sand, the infamous killer powerless against the five year old boy. There were tears and heartfelt goodbyes, none of which seemed to truly assuage the pain that they all felt at their impending separation. No one quite understood how the children could be so close with so little time but some things were better left a mystery.


	3. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

290 AC

Fidgeting with the bottom of his formal dress uniform, the seven year old could not stop moving. Jon was nervous, more nervous than he had ever been. The Starks of Winterfell were vacationing at Starfall, an absolutely unheard of event in the history of Westeros. Not only them, but Jon's beloved home was also playing host to the Tyrells as well, along with Obara and Nymneria Sand. To anyone else, it looked like a mere coincidence but Jon could sense that it was something more. The adults in his life were planning something and, while he may not have known what it was, it made him infinitely curious.

"Stop moving," Ashara admonished to both of her children. Little two year old Elena was fidgeting worse than her brother, pulling on her black braids and sucking on her fingers. When her hand was not in her hair it was held in her brother's hand, the other one firmly plopped in her mouth, sucking on her thumb. Jon moved to take a nervous step back but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. The two Sand Snakes were positioned behind him and he looked up to find Obara smiling at him.

Riding up to the castle was a large plume of people headed by a large man carrying the direwolf banner of House Stark. Just behind the banner rode a man that looked so much like Jon, he was taken aback. Gulian was his father but he looked nothing like the dark skinned, brown eyed Dornishman. This man, whom his mother informed him was Lord Eddard Stark, looked more like him than his own father. He had the same midnight dark hair, the same long face, and the same plae skin that could not seem to tan; though his eyes were a steel grey, rather than Jon's purple tinged stormy orbs.

"Lord Stark," Gulian called out in a friendly tone. He had known the man once, before the war, and he remembered him with the utmost fondness. Even though he had once been in love with the Dornishman's wife, he did not feel threatened, as he knew that Ashara had eyes for only him and their children.

"Please Gulian, that child makes me feel old," the northern lord gave a slight smile as the two embraced.

"Ned, it's good to see you."

A beautiful woman was the first to exit the carriage. She was tall and had the look of one from the Riverlands, not the North. She had cascading auburn hair that fell to her waist in luxurious cirls and eyes the color of shinning emeralds. In her arms she held a babe with her same features, wrapped in a grey and white blanket and giggling. Next came a little girl that, again, looked just as her mother did. Last was a boy Jon's age with the same red hair and blue eyes as his siblings.

"Arya," the woman, Lady Stark, called gently, and out of the carriage tumbled a child no older than one who clearly took after her father. She took her mother's outstretched hand with a pout and Jon was delighted to see himself in her.

Hugging the Lady of Winterfell, Ashara gushed, "Catelyn, it's so wonderful to see you." She was careful of the infant and cooed at him when she pulled away. "He's precious! What did you decide to name him?"

"Brandon, after his uncle. Bran, for short."

"It's a fine name. and this beautiful young lady must be Sansa, yes?" The four year old blushed and gave a rehearsed curtsy that could have put some of the highest court nobles to shame. "That would make this strong man Robb." The boy beamed up at her and the Lady of Starfall instantly knew that she had just won his heart forever. She then turned to the people behind her and introduced them one at a time. "This is my son, Jon, my daughter, Elena, and our two wards, Obara and Nymeria Sand."

"You foster bastards with your real children?" Lady Stark asked, only to be met with a growl. She looked up, expecting to see one of the Sand Snakes, and was shocked to find that the two teens were actually holding back the true perpetrator as Jon struggled to get free.

Shooting an incredulous look at the other woman, Ashara went over and kneeled before her son, speaking to him in a gentle voice, "Calm yourself, love. It does you no good to struggle." Her words seemed to help as the boy stilled. "Things are much different in the North then they are in Dorne."

"I'm not a bastard, Mama. People say I am, but I'm not," there were tears in his eyes and hurt in his tone.

"No, my love, you're not. But Nymeria and Obara are, and there's no shame in that." At that, she looked up at the two girls and gave them a look to assure them that she truly meant what she had said. She had come to care for the teenaged assassins greatly in the years since they had met and she would not allow anyone to hurt them, not even another high born lady. "Lady Catelyn, there is something that you must understand about Dorne. No one is less because of their birth, not here. Obara and Nymeria are treasured members of my household." Both girls looked oddly smug at the compliment. "If you could, I would ask you to respect them while you are here."

A sour look crossed the northern noble's face but it soon dissolved into a polite, courtly smile. With the tension eased, they were all led into the castle to meet in the library. Jon knew that he was supposed to be socializing with the newly arrived children but he stuck to Nymeria like glue, jumping on her as soon as his parent's backs were turned. He laughed wildly as she zigzagged through the halls to the astonished looks of the others. Obara followed them with little Elena on her shoulders and both giggled at their siblings' antics.

"Mama, can we go to the gardens instead?" Jon asked from his perch.

"Only if you take the Stark children with you," the Lady of Starfall smiled indulgently. "Oh, and Obara, Nym, keep them out of trouble and _watch them_."

The two Sand Snakes nodded and herded the little people towards the palace's lush and expansive gardens. There was a patch of plain grass surrounded by a grove of cherry trees that the children sat up in, Jon bringing his ball from where he had left it under his favorite tree. He kicked it to Nymeria and enticed Robb and Sansa so play with them. Obara stayed aside and played with Elena and Arya, although the youngest Stark girl seemed far more interested in the game that she was not allowed to join than the other little lady.

Jon found that he rather enjoyes the Stark children, even if they were not as loose and laid back as the Dornish. Robb was the first boy that he had ever met his own age, and the two were instantly thick as thieves. It was not long before the young heir to Sandstone was showing the northern boy down to the yard where the sparring ring was. Having been trained by the Sand Snakes and his Uncle Oberyn, Jon was excited to test himself against the unknown skills of the Stark heir, though they were told that they would have to wait until the morrow.

In the library, the adults sat discussing the details of their visit. Having left his little brother Benjen in charge of Winterfell, Lord Eddard and his family were staying in Dorne for several months on a long awaited holiday. He hoped that during their extended stay he, Ashara, and the Tyrells would be able to decide their plan of action for the coming years. He had not, however, expected Gulian Qorgyle to know of their dealings.

"The Tyrells will be here next week. There were some delays in Highgarden, I'm afraid," Gulian said, handing a cup of tea to his wife and kissing her forehead sweetly before taking a seat next to her on the small couch. "It does give us some time to relax before preparations must get underway."

Feigning Ignorance, Ned said, "What preparations?" as far as the Warden of the North knew, the only ones that possessed the knowledge of who Jon truly was were himself, the Princes Oberyn and Doran, and the Tyrells. He had not even told his wife of the real reason that they were in the south, though he had planned to explain it to her.

"Don't play dumb, Ned. It's never suited you," Ashara said playfully to her one time would be husband. She had loved him in her youth, before she had become a young mother to his nephew, but that time was long past. "Gulian knows."

"I thought we had agreed in our letters-"

"He's my husband, and Jon's father, what would you have me do?"

"How many others know?"

"Well, you've already met the only two that I've told, Obara and Nymeria. They're Oberyn's oldest daughters and they've been with us for more than a year."

"Is it customary to foster those of… lower birth?" though Catelyn tried to find a kinder word for the two bastards, her tone still held a note of disdain. Her own betrothed had fathered a bastard, as well as a hate for them in her heart. She had loved Brandon in her youth and the arrival of young Corren Snow had wounded her deeply. Though he lived with them at Winterfell, she had never been able to bring herself to love the boy. She hated herself for this, as the ten year old was an exceptionally kind and intelligent young man.

"As I said before, things are quite different here. Sand's can rise as high as any great house, and I have no doubt that Nym and Obara certainly will. They are fierce and oftentimes frightening, but they can also be extremely caring and gentle, especially with my children."

"Perhaps they can speak with… _the boy_." It pained her still to talk about him, but she would not offend their hosts again.

"The boy?"

"My brother Brandon fathered a son before the beginning of the war," Ned informed gently. "He's a good, hard working lad. Perhaps, you would consider fostering him as well?" He knew that he was asking a lot of his friends, but the Lord of Winterfell was sure, as soon as the idea came to him, that this was the best course of action for his illegitimate nephew. The boy's life at Winterfell was far from comfortable with Catelyn looking down on him every day. He could tell that here he would be well cared for, perhaps even loved.

Considering the question, Ashara asked, "How old is this boy?"

"Corren just turned ten."

"Prime age for fostering, though he is younger than the girls." Then, she considered another Sand Snake who would soon be joining them. She had agreed to house and train yet another of Oberyn's brood as a favor to the man. He hoped that the family could pull the girl out of her shell. "Actually, we have another ward arriving in about a week. Sarella is a year younger than Corren, but they will be close enough in age. It will be good to have them join the household at the same time. Did you bring the boy with you?"

Plans were made to introduce the child, who had stayed back at the caravan with Winterfell's master at arms, to the rest of Starfall's children. Though Catelyn thought it all very odd, the joy at fostering yet another child was clear on both Ashara and Gulian's faces. They seemed to have a natural affinity for children, as showcased by the barely noticeable baby bump that the lady was trying to hide.

That night, as Nymeria tucked Jon into bed, she had to marvel at the boy that she thought of as her own brother. He had so much love in his heart, even for strangers that he had just met, like the Stark children. Though Lady Ashara and Lord Gulian had always made her and Obara feel like part of the family, it was their son that made them feel at home. Both dreaded the day that they would have to leave Starfall and return to their father, for it meant leaving behind the young boy that had completely stolen their hearts.

"Nym, do you think she'll like me?" there was fear in his voice that would have been adorable had Jon not sounded so insecure.

The Sand Snake did not need to ask whom he meant, as he was referring to the only person that he had been able to speak of for days, Margaery Tyrell. She smiled down at him and said, "I'm sure she will love you, Jon."

"But what if she doesn't? She's supposed to marry me someday."

"Even if she does not like you now, I can assure that she will come to love you over time. Though, I severely doubt that she will be able to resist your charms."

"I wish I could just marry you, Nym. Mama said that marrying someone means that you spend the rest of your life with them, and I'd love to spend the rest of my life with you. You'd marry me, wouldn't you?"

"I'm a little old for you, don't you think, Little Spear?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

He breathed gently and soon drifted off to sleep, cuddled in the arms of the sixteen year old girl that he had just proposed to.


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

Corren Snow was very unused to being treated as just another one of the children. All of his life, he had been reminded that he was a bastard, less than his true born cousins. Though most everyone at Winterfell had been tolerant of him, few had ever shown him any real, positive affection. The suddenly, he was in Dorne and his uncle was introducing him to Lord Gulian and Lady Ashara, who he was told he would remain with when his family returned north.

The lord and lady's son, Jon, had led him to his own private room the morning of his second day at Starfall. The bastard of Winterfell was surprised to find that, rather than his usual converted store room, he had been given chambers in the same wing as the boy's himself. Though Lady Qorgyle had assured him that he would be treated as a treasured member of the household, he had scarcely believed her. He had expected to be taken on as a stable boy or perhaps even a page or a squire, but never had he thought that he would be trained just as the presumed future Lord of Sandstone.

"My room is just down the hall, and so are Obara and Nym's," Jon told the northern boy happily,

"Obara and Nym?" asked Corren. He had yet to meet anyone by those names.

"Nymeria and Obara Sand, they live here too. Their little sister, Sarella, is coming soon too. I hope you like her. She's close to our age."

"Are there any other?"

"My aunt, Allyria, but she's in Sunspear with her betrothed, Quentyn. Oh, you wanna come down to the yard? I've got a lesson with Obara and I'm sure she'd be happy to teach you as well."

Corren had no idea what kind of lesson that his new friend meant, but he was simply so excited to be asked that he could not find it in himself to care. He chased after the young lordling and found himself laughing, for what truly felt like the first time in his life, at his antics. Down in the yard, the two Sand Snakes were facing off against each other, Obara with a spear and Nymeria with her two daggers. The two were certainly a sight to see, one that blew the young northerner away.

The teens fought with a ferocity that no one would expect from two sparring sisters. There was no hesitation in their movements, as if they were not afraid to inflict harm, but, when the older girl got in a deadly jab that ended the match, it became clear that both could control themselves enough so that no one was hurt. Nymeria got up and brushed herself off with an extremely unhappy look that disappeared when she saw Jon.

The little boy ran into her arms and she swung him around as he shouted, "Nym!" He giggled at her wildly and gave her a large, toothy grin when she sat him down, showing off the missing front tooth that had fallen out the week before. With plain clothes and bare feet, one would never know that he was the son of a lord. He turned to the northern boy and gestured. "This is my new friend, Cory." Corren smiled at the boy's mispronunciation, rather liking the idea of having a nickname. "Cory, this is Nymeria and Obara Sand, the ones that I told you about."

"It's nice to meet you, Cory," said Nymeria, giving the obviously nervous boy a friendly smile.

"Nym and Obara are the best, though Nym's blade work could use a little fine tuning." Purple-grey eyes shinned as the little boy threw back the reprimand that his friend had so often given him during training. He was better with a spear, much to Obara's delight, but everyone insisted that he had to be well versed in all manner of combat. He was a fairly good archer and had recently begun working with a whip. All of these, however, were southern weapons, and he had almost drooled when he had caught sight of Lord Eddard's greatsword.

Before any lesson could begin, the group was joined by young Robb Stark and Winterfell's master-at-arms, Sir Rodrik. The older knight carried several northern swords with him and offered to teach them all how to use them while the Starks guested at Starfall, even the Sand Snakes. Jon and Nymeria were both over the moon at this, having always wanted to learn how to fight with swords. There were some such blades in Dorne, but it was not the way that their people fought. The Dornishmen were wild and passionate, and therefore so were their weapons. Jon's uncle Arthur, the Sword of the Morning, fought with the Dayne ancestral greatsword Dawn, but he was one of few.

The Lady of Starfall was, blessedly, free of duties for the remainder of the day, and so she went off in search of her son. Her daughter, still do young, could not have her lessons disrupted, lest her schedule be broken, so she sought out her eldest child, whose mornings consisted of military training. What she saw when she found him was not at all what she had expected. He was in the training yard, just where she had thought, but he held a blunted northern short sword and faced off against Corren. He was drenched in sweat and had a large bruise on his arm, but he seemed oddly happy.

As she watched, Jon skillfully managed to evade the older boy's strikes, even landing a solid one of his own. The mother felt that her son was doing rather well, especially for having never wielded such a weapon before. His opponent was stronger and more experienced, but that did not stop the younger boy from more than holding his own. Their fighting styles were so different that it made for a very interesting match. Where Corren's movements were rigid and precise from endless hours of practice, Jon swung his sword as if it were a staff, swirling with the fluidity of air. The older boy won in the end, though only just barely.

Seeing his mother watching, Jon hugged her with an excited, "Mama!" She hugged him back fiercely, reveling in his open affection. He rarely showed her such displays after his uncle Arron had told him that it made him look weak. "Did you see that, Mama?"

"I did, my little spear," Ashara smiled, kissing the top of his sweaty, curly black hair. "You were very good. You should have Uncle Arthur when he returns from Braavos. He'll be so proud to see what you've learned."

The little boy beamed at the mention of the uncle whom he so rarely saw. Sir Arthur Dayne had left Westeros almost three years before in search of Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. They had fled the country after the deaths of their father, Aerys, and their brother, Rhaegar. Arthur had offered to be the one to seek them out, as few knew that he was alive and so his absence would not be noted. It was important to have their support in the war that was to come. He had sent a letter only a month ago to say that he was on his way home at long last.

Eddard Stark looked on his son and two nephews told Ashara all about their fighting lessons. The Lord of Winterfell would never consider himself a jealous man but, in that moment, he was envious of the Dornish woman. He had chosen not to take the boy, born Jaehaerys Targaryen but now called Jon Qorgyle, because he felt that his life would have been too hard. He would have been forced to claim the child as his bastard, staining his honor, and so he had instead asked his childhood love to shame herself. She had agreed to it, gladly, as soon as she had held the babe in her arms.

Seeing the little boy like that, how very happy he was, sent a pang of regret running through Ned like fire. He begrudged Ashara the chance that she had had to give the boy a good life and, sadly, even felt a little scorn for the child himself. Jon was supposed to be miserable, a bastard that was looked down upon, not the happy son of a lord. It was only right since he had killed Lyanna, she who held the purest soul that the world had ever seen. As if somehow sensing his thoughts, Ashara turned a disdainful eyes towards her childhood sweetheart, and he retreated back into the castle in shame.


	5. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Prince Obyren arrived in his typical showy fashion, accompanied by his paramours and his four remaining daughters; Tyene at four and ten, nine year old Sarella, four year old Elia, and two year old Obella. Jon had left protocol behind and ran straight into his gofather's waiting arms. When the man released him, the little boy happily kissed Ellaria and each of the Sand Snakes, offering a smile and genuine words of greeting. Next, Nymeria and Obara approached their family, their interactions far more tempered by time and experience.

The younger Dornish prince had brought gifts for the children of Starfall, and even ones for those from the North. After everyone was ushered into the lady's study, Oberyn emptied his bag of all kinds of goodies for the little people. He had done he best to guess at gifts for the children that he had no knowledge of; a toy soldier for Robb, a beautiful Meereenese silk dress for Sansa, a stuffed dragon for Arya, and even an embroidered blanket for baby Brandon. For the children that he was more familiar with, he had looked long and hard for things that he knew that they would like; a dragon glass tipped spear for Obara, a necklace of rare emeralds from the Shadow Lands for Nymeria, who would never admit that she loved pretty things, a delicately made porcelain doll from Volantis for Elena, and, lastly, for Jon a short bastard sword made of Valyrian steel. There were very few such weapons left in the entire world and the little boy practically squealed at the sight of it.

"Uncle Oberyn! How did you get this?" Jon once again threw his arms around the man that he now officially worshipped.

The boy's godfather smiled indulgently at him and said, "I've been searching for that specific piece for a few years. I actually had to have it recrafted, but finding that much Valyrian steel was difficult. Look, I had it modeled after Dawn."

The Dayne's ancestral greatsword was made from the heart of a fallen star so the dark Valyrian steel did not look exactly like it, but Jon could see what his uncle had done. The hilt, pommel, cross guard, and shape of the blade were all a miniature version of the greatsword. Though it was a bastard sword, it was still too large for the little boy. He could not, however, complain. He merely stated that he would practice with it every day until he was strong enough to wield it in battle. No one doubted that he would do just that.

Without knowledge of the boy's presence, or even existence, Oberyn had not known to bring anything for Corren. Instead, he took the two gold-crusted daggers from his belt and handed them to the bastard, sheaths and all. They may not have been Valyrian steel but they had been made in Braavos by one of the best blacksmiths in the world. The superior make and craftsmanship of the weapons took Corren by surprise and he attempted to give them back, saying, "But, I'm just a bastard."

The prince just smiled at him and said gently, "Surely, you will have noticed that things are done differently here. Have you met Obara and Nymeria?" He received a firm nod and a smile, indicating that the child was already taken with the teenage girls. "You see, they are what you northerners call _bastards_ , but I would be willing to bet that you have not seen anyone treat them unfairly. You are in Dorne now, and here you will be loved and cherished." Corren beamed at him, and the man knew that he had one the young boy's heart.

Obara, Corren, and Jon were far too excited to practice with their new weapons to do anything else, and so Oberyn led them, Nymeria, Tyene, and Sarella down to the yard, Robb not too far behind. The Sand Snakes all used daggers, save Obara, but it was Sarella that decided she would be the one to train Corren. The pale boy was a horrible blushing mess around the girl but, somehow, managed to pay enough attention to actually learn something. What he found was that, though he had been training with longswords his whole life, his skills were much better suited to dual wielding.

Ser Rodrik continued to help train Jon, as he was the person at Starfall most well versed in northern short swords, but the boy waited with barely contained anticipation for the return of his uncle. He wanted to show the man his miniature version, as well as finally learn directly from the Sword of the Morning. His uncle was a swordsman unmatched by any, save Ser Barristan the Bold and the now deceased Prince Rhaegar. The Young Dragon would consider it an honor to learn from him.

As much as Jon was looking forward to seeing his uncle, he was equally dreading the arrival of Starfall's other guests, the Tyrells of Highgarden. Ever since his fourth nameday, he had been told that he was to marry their only daughter, Margaery. He had never met the girl and, as a fiercely independent little boy, had no desire to. Being wed to a stranger was the last thing that he wanted, though it seemed that his wants were not being taken into consideration. He would sooner agree to marry his new friend Robb. Never would he admit that, for all of his talk, he was simply nervous and scared.

No one in Starfall was able to find Jon when news of the Tyerlls' approach reached the castle. Checking all of his usual hiding places, they found them curiously empty, and even Nymeria and Obara were not able to locate their young friend. Lord and Lady Qorgyle were beside themselves that they would have to meet their guests without their only son, but there was little that they could do. Both parents knew that the boy would show up eventually, whenever he decided that meeting these new strangers was not truly _that_ bad.

Jon was holed up in his uncle's now dusty chambers, watching through the window as his family greeted their new guests. They were a pretentious lot, from what he could see, and he had never done well with people like that. His parents had raised him to be free spirited, even a little bit wild, and so he had never gotten along with the nobles from outside of Dorne. Even Lord and Lady Stark looked down on him, though they tried their best to hide it.

When everyone else went inside the castle, the boy thought that it was safe to sneak out of the used chambers and return to his own. Anyone that could possibly be searching for him were far too preoccupied with the Tyrells to find him for quite some time. His bare feet made no noise as he crept through the halls, though his mind was elsewhere and he was not paying attention to his surroundings as he should have been. Jon rounded a corner and collided with another body his size, knocking them both to the ground

Ever the gentleman, even when he was dressed like a peasant, he stood quickly to help the person that he had struck up from the ground. That was when he saw her, the beautiful girl that he was meant to spend the rest of his life with. Long, curly, honey brown hair fell past her shoulders and she wore a cream colored that was light and flowing, held aloft by two thin straps. Still, the most striking thing about her was her eyes. The color of freshly melted chocolate, they swirled with a certain happiness that reminded Jon of his mother.

Realizing that he had been staring, he helped her up and said, "I'm so sorry, m'lady. I didn't see you coming."

"It's okay," the girl smiled back reassuringly. "I just arrived here and I don't really know my way around. Or the people. Who are you?"

"Oh, um…" The boy did not know what to say. Did he tell her the truth and give himself away, or did he give her an empty lie and hope that she told him the truth? "Yeah, I'm not so good at lying. My name is Jon Qorgyle, and you are?"

Her face lit up at the mention of his identity and it worried him. "Oh, thank the gods, I was so afraid that you would be ugly." Though the girl looked utterly giddy, the boy just appeared confused. "I'm sorry, I'm Margaery Tyrell."

Then, as if someone had physically hit him, Jon backed away from the girl. This was her, the girl that his parents wanted him to marry. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't know." He was beside himself, as he had actually thought that she was pretty.

"It's okay." She flashed him a disarmingly charming smile that showed off two deep dimples and perfectly white teeth. "You know, you're kinda cute."

A crimson blush spread across his cheeks. He did not want her to think that he was cute, but, on some level, he did. He certainly thought that she was cute. "Oh, um, thanks, I guess. You're, uh, really pretty."

Margaery smiled happily and went to say something, but she was interrupted by the sound of uneven footsteps. Coming down the hall was the shortest man that Jon had ever seen, being even smaller than the seven year old himself. Clearly a dwarf, he was also not particularly attractive, though at least he was not ugly. His eyes were a subtle blye and his hair was so blonde that it was white. When he reached the two children, he looked up at the girl and said, "You father is looking for you."

"I'm sorry, Tyrion," the girl smiled at the dwarf fondly. She thought of him as simply another one of her older brothers, even though she already had three. "I had to make water and I'm afraid I got lost. I was looking for the way back when I ran into Jon."

She gestured to the other boy, meaning that he had to introduce himself, "I am Jon Qorgyle, eldest child of Lord Gulian Qorgyle and Lady Ashara Dayne."

"Tyrion Lannister," the dwarf said, shaking Jon's hand. His last name took the boy by surprise.

"We don't see many Lannisters in Dorne."

"I'm a ward of Lord and Lady Tyrell, I have been for almost ten years. I like to consider myself more of a Tyrell than a Lannister, at least at this point. By the way, your lady mother and two heavily armed girls were looking for you."

"That'll be Nym and Obara. You didn't happen to see Prince Oberyn as well, did you?"

"I did, he's in the library with your father and my host family. That is where we should be heading, actually. Unless you would like us to forget that we ever saw you."

While he was touched by the dwarf's offer, Jon felt that running away and hiding was a rather moot point after he had already met his betrothed. "I've been away too long. If I stay hidden any longer, Nym might kill me." He was laughing, but something in his eyes made the other boy realize that he was serious. In a move most uncharacteristic of the boy of Starfall, he offered his wife to be his arm. "Would you like an escort, m'lady?" his lower class manner of speaking rather matched what he wore, a simple, sleeveless white tunic and purple knee length pants, and neither of the visitors would have believed who he was had they not heard of the boy's… oddness.

The three were almost to the library when Nymeria found them, immediately rounding on her young friend. She was going to launch into a rant when she noticed the two that accompanied her favorite little boy. The little girl hung on his arm could but none other than Margaery Tyrell, but the dwarf…

"I'm sorry, Nym. I was gonna come, but…" Jon trailed off.

She knew that he was nervous. Of course she did, she was his best friend. She could not begrudge him for feeling that way, and so she soothed, "It's alright, Little Spear. I forgive you, though I'm not sure Obara or your mother will be so easy. Now, who are our guests?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. Nym, this is Margaery Tyrell and Tyrion Lannister, a ward of the Tyrells. You guys, this is Nymeria Sand, one of my parents' wards and my very best friend."

The bastard smiled indulgently at her young friend. She had been absolutely enamored with him since the very first day that they met, and he was still just as charming as he had been then, in a roguish, street kid sort of way. "It is a pleasure to meet you. Shall I take you all to Lord Gulian or Lady Ashara?" Though she was asking the two visitors, her questions was directed at the little boy with the toothy grin. She was asking him which of his parent's wrath he would rather face first.

"I'm sure Mama is out looking for me, and I'm sure she'd hate to be there when I've been found." His mother had always been more forgiving of his antics, seeing some of her young rebellious self in him. They found her and Obara a few corridors from the library, the younger of the two scowling at her sister and young friend. Jon ran into his mother's waiting arms. "Mama, there you are! I'm so sorry, Mama. I am."

Ashara smiled at her son, knowing that she could not get angry with him no matter how hard she tried. Looking back to see that he had already met his betrothed, and she felt that everything had worked out in the end. She said, "It's alright, my love. I see you've already met Margaery and Tyrion. We should introduce you to the others."

In the library, the Starks and the Tyrells were conversing with Gulian. Lord and Lady Tyrell's three sons were all older than Jon, and each was more different than the last. The oldest, Willas, was age four and ten with brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a kind face. Garlan, the middle son, was broadly built and, at only three and ten years, he was already rather muscular. His brown hair was kept short, abnormal for someone from the Reach, but it left his shining golden eyes on full display. The youngest son was only a year older than Jon but he was already so… pretty, for that was the only way to describe him. Long, curly brown hair framed a cherubic face with those same golden eyes, shining brightly in the afternoon light that came flittering in from the window.

Jon was rather unimpressed with them, especially stood next to the beautiful Margaery and Tyrion, who held such wisdom in his eyes. The boy knew that he would be friends with those two, at the very least. Ashara released her son, Margaery, Robb, Sarella, and Corren out to the gardens, under the supervision of Tyrion and Nymeria.

The dwarf had to admit, he was extremely fascinated with the illegitimate daughter that sat beside him. She was beautiful, no one could deny that, and, though he could certainly appreciate beauty, there was something else about her that drew him in. Perhaps it was her sharp wit or the way that she had with the children, especially young Jon. Either way, Tyrion was entranced. He could only pray that his interest in the deadly assassin resolved itself soon.


End file.
